Love Tomorrow
by Kairos27
Summary: AU. Sequel to 'Now I Know'. Brittany was never quite sure where her dreams would lead her, until now; but sometimes she wonders if Santana is as sure as she is.


Here is the much-demanded sequel to 'Now I Know', also originally posted on AO3. As with most sequels, it doesn't really live up to 'Now I Know', but I'll let you be the judge of that.

I have been getting requests to write a threequel (lol), which has a good chance of happening at this point because of the demand. However, it remains to be seen if I have the time – I have several other fics going on.

Enjoy.

* * *

_**Love Tomorrow**_

It seemed that Mike, Tina's boyfriend, only had Asian friends, who were very helpful indeed when they were asked — so when he'd helped set Brittany up with a place to stay when she moved to take her job in Los Angeles, two Asian roommates came with the place. Not only were they Asian, they went to medical school at USC and therefore were either sleeping, studying, or at school doing the same things — sleeping or studying. Which was nice because Brittany could have peace and quiet for the majority of her time at home, but also not very nice because she didn't think they were ever going to become good friends with her, what with them being gone all the time and never talking. Also, they didn't like it when she played music too loudly, which had like only happened _once_, and they were kind of passive-aggressive about it.

Sometimes Brittany really missed Tina, and wondered if she had found a new roommate to replace Brittany and whether she was as cool and awesome as Brittany was.

Since her roommates didn't have time to be friends, Brittany had to make other friends — that is, friends who weren't Santana, because Santana was obviously her friend. Mike came by to check on her often, and he was a really nice guy and she considered him a friend but not _too much_ of one in case Tina got jealous. Her co-workers were plenty friendly, although they were all guys who all ended up telling her she was a hot piece of ass at one point or another, which she found really flattering, but all of that clearly annoyed Santana when Brittany told her. Jealous Santana was cute (what else could it be other than jealousy, anyway, if she was mad about other people calling Brittany hot?), when she wasn't utterly scary.

That left Sam, Santana's friend who did business at the motorcycle shop — his Kawasaki was like the younger sibling that he already had two of except it wasn't human, or like the girlfriend he would never have because he was gay — and he was nice and sometimes brought her McDonald's while the Kawasaki was still in the shop, and also he never commented on Brittany's smoking body, which kept Santana from getting mad at him. They had a lot to talk about, particularly the X-Men, because Sam was a huge fan of those sorts of things, although Santana didn't allow Brittany to tell him about her X-Men themed underwear. So Brittany felt that they were on their way to becoming good friends.

Anyway, Brittany didn't know if she was more scared or flattered by Santana's irritation when it came to people telling Brittany how hot she was. Back in Vegas, few people paid any real attention to the gondoliers no matter how hot they were (unless they were super drunk), and she hadn't had Santana nearby for most of it, so all of this attention, and Santana's constant presence, was a new and exciting experience for Brittany.

Brittany was absolutely certain by now that she had the biggest crush of her life on Santana. It wasn't just the fact that they had sex less than 36 hours after knowing each other (although that probably helped), but because Santana was just as attentive and sweet as she was then, maybe even more so now that they were a bit older. In fact not a week went by when they didn't spend time with each other, even if it was only dinner on Friday nights, or video games at Sam's, or make-out sessions in Santana's house on the weekend.

Funnily enough, they hadn't actually had sex for the second time yet, but maybe that was because of two reasons: the first being that they knew that they weren't going anywhere far away from each other. Not for a long, long time.

The second reason — well, Brittany didn't much like thinking about it. See, Santana was wonderful and beautiful, but although the good things about her didn't change, neither did the bad things. "Bad things" being that Santana still closed herself off tightly — like she was still that store at night guarding itself from robbers — and didn't want to let anyone in, for example, she wouldn't always let Brittany hold her hand or cuddle her in front of of people. Brittany was an honored guest, which was nice, but at the end of the day Santana just wouldn't let her in on a long-term basis, and would close herself off again.

"Let's just…take it slow," Santana had said, which made some sense considering that how they hadn't really known each other at all before Las Vegas, their relationship was going at a really fast pace. Maybe faster than Santana was used to.

Which Brittany could understand, really she could, but since she was already very sure of what she felt about Santana, it was only natural that she'd be a little disappointed that Santana was balking, making it look like she didn't feel that same way despite her cute displays of jealousy. The only thing Brittany could think of doing was to be continually open and soft and everything Santana needed, in hopes that Santana would soon feel brave enough to do the same thing. To be worth opening up to.

It wasn't very hard to do, actually. It was almost always fun when she got to spend time with Santana and do stuff Santana wanted to do. For instance, Sam offered to let Brittany use his gym membership for a few weeks because he was going to Greece with his boyfriend. Since Santana was a member of the same gym, she suggested that they go together whenever Brittany had the time, and Brittany eagerly agreed.

Although Brittany tagged along with Santana to the ellipticals, she spent all her time looking longingly at the bench pressing stations; Santana, noticing this, laughed at her and told her to go on. "I'll get someone to spot for you," she offered.

"Why can't you spot for me?" Brittany pouted, making sure to have her lower lip tremble because Santana thought it was the cutest and dorkiest thing. "I swear I don't lift very heavy weights, if that's what you're worried about."

Santana shook her head at her, but relented. "Do you know the proper form?" she asked, as she set Brittany's requested weights.

Brittany nodded, testing the grip width. "Feet flat on the ground, butt flat on the bench, shoulder blades together," she recited, as she began her reps. She hadn't done this for a while so she knew to use the lightest weights first and then build her way up. Santana changed the weights per her requests and just stood there watching her closely for the rest of the time. Suddenly Brittany stopped and returned the bar to the uprights.

"Tired?" Santana asked.

"Not really." Brittany's eyes twinkled. "I was just thinking…"

"What, you can't think and bench press at the same time?" Santana teased.

Brittany blushed and shook her head a little. "I wasn't finished. I was just thinking about how heavy these weights were and…and I was thinking that maybe I could bench press you."

Santana's eyes widened. For a scary moment Brittany thought that Santana was insulted (because she basically just made a comment about her weight and girls didn't like that sort of thing, not even Brittany), and might slap her — although Santana had never raised her hand to hit her before. Brittany screwed up her face, fully expecting a smack in the face, or worse, Santana yelling at her — but instead, Santana started to laugh. Brittany opened her eyes cautiously.

"You probably could," Santana murmured. She was smiling widely, not looking insulted at all. "Your arm strength _is_ pretty impressive."

Without warning, Santana knelt down next to the bench and pressed a quick kiss to Brittany's cheek. So quick that Brittany almost didn't feel it and only the condensation from Santana's breath lingering on her skin convinced her that it had happened at all.

* * *

They left soon after that, Brittany trotting after Santana as they made their way to her car. As Brittany crawled into the front seat, she heard Santana ask, "Hey Britt, you want to come over to my place? Sam left his Xbox with me because he's paranoid and thinks if he leaves it in his empty apartment someone'll steal it. As if my house isn't empty for most of the week anyway." When Brittany didn't answer right away, Santana baited, "Didn't you want to finish Skyrim or whatever you call it before he comes back?"

Brittany's eyes bulged at that. "Oh, right!" She had started playing the game on Sam's console, except she hadn't had the opportunity to finish because Sam owned the console and was playing other games on it so that Brittany couldn't finish it, and her impatience on finding out what happened next in the game was gnawing at her like a dog on rawhide. "Yeah, I did. Let's go."

Santana laughed at her again; Brittany never minded it because Santana was not laughing because she thought Brittany was being dumb (like people in high school did), but because she thought Brittany was so cute. Santana even said so herself, before — and since Brittany could always tell the difference anyway, she believed Santana when she said so. "So it's decided," Santana said, nodding, and turned on the ignition.

Santana didn't like to play video games as much as she liked to watch other people play them. Sam found this annoying and frustrating, because Santana was always yelling at him like "_Don't go that way, you fish-lipped moron_!" or "_Why do you suck so much? This is the like the fifteenth fucking time you've died trying to beat that thing_!" But she never yelled like that whenever _Brittany_ was playing, which made Sam pissy because he thought it was totally unfair, which in turn was probably why he wouldn't let Brittany finish Skyrim.

But now that he was out of town, Brittany could — so she decided that she was going to make the most of it. Her fingers weren't as quick on the controls as Sam's were, but then she didn't run into unnecessary trouble as much as he did. Which was probably why Santana didn't yell at her.

"My most favorite, favorite part of this game is the scenery, though," Brittany marveled as her character wheeled around in a complete circle for the seventeenth time so that Brittany could fully appreciate the graphics.

Santana nodded and took another sip of her beer. She eased a slice of pizza out of the box on the coffee table and held it out towards Brittany. "Here, open up," she said, and Brittany turned her head and took a bite, using her tongue to collect the trailing strings of cheese. They had established this feeding system because they weren't about to get Sam's controllers dirty — he might have actually tried to kill them if they did.

"San!" Brittany exclaimed, as Santana took a large, careless bite of her own from the same slice. "That was mine."

Santana chewed thoughtfully for a while, swallowed and asked, "We can't share?" with a quirk of her eyebrow. She had a point — they did tend to share spit a lot, and Brittany liked it when they did. So why should eating the same slice be any different?

But still; "Don't eat the whole slice, save some for me," Brittany whined.

"Yeah, yeah." Santana held out the slice again. This time, Brittany took a much bigger bite. Her cheeks filled out, like a squirrel's. She grinned and Santana giggled. "Damn, ain't nothing left for me but the crust."

Brittany rolled her eyes playfully and turned back to her game, chewing noisily. Santana leaned back into the couch cushions with her beer, occasionally pointing out random in-game characters she wanted Brittany's character to talk to. She would watch really intently when Brittany's character was killing other people, as if trying to score her on killing ability. Or maybe she was just worried that Brittany's character would lose. "You're more careful about preparing for stuff and not pissing off the wrong people than Sam is, which is why you don't die so much," Santana said approvingly when Brittany threw her a questioning glance.

"Thanks," Brittany said, feeling the tips of her ears heating up. She really, really liked Santana's compliments, and if she was being honest she didn't care if anybody knew that.

She saved her game and then turned around to look at Santana, who was watching her with soft, gentle eyes that made Brittany feel warm and trembly inside. She'd never seen Santana look at anyone else like that, although she might have been biased considering she'd never seen Santana with anyone else except Sam, and she's usually yelling at him. It seemed like Santana interacting with people other than Sam was a part of Santana's life that she felt like Santana was trying to keep her out of.

Suddenly, even though she was sitting on the couch, only a foot from Brittany's place on the floor, Santana felt very far away. Brittany had to fix that immediately, so she put the controller down and clambered onto the couch next to Santana. "Hi there," Brittany said, plopping down on the cushions and resting her forehead on Santana's shoulders.

In response, Santana's body softened and allowed Brittany to crawl over and drape herself over her. Her fingers rose to thread themselves into Brittany's hair and lightly scratch at Brittany's scalp. "Hey," she answered back softly and lightly, smiling as Brittany pecked her on the lips.

Brittany didn't like to think about worrying whether kissing Santana would be okay — which was something she had been doing more and more often these days. Worrying, that is — the amount of kissing was just about the same. Maybe inside Santana's house they didn't have to worry, but in regards to everywhere _else_ Brittany felt herself worrying about whether Santana would decide that she wasn't "_that_ into that" (the same way Quinn wasn't), the way she would move away a little whenever Brittany got too close and handsy in public.

Going where life took her was very easy for Brittany, even though it took a very long time; but apparently getting to the actual _destination_ was going to be harder than she thought. It made her head hurt and her organs feel tight and uncomfortable, like the time just before she had her time of the month. She sighed deeply, trying to get the uncomfortableness to uncoil from around her and to relax.

"You okay?" Santana asked, her head craning up to look at Brittany. She looked so calm and caring that Brittany wished with all her heart that Santana wouldn't someday decide that she wasn't _that_ into that_._ Brittany was worried that she might make Santana feel too uncomfortable one day.

Deciding that now wasn't the time to bring it up — because Santana looked content, which was nice — Brittany just shrugged. "I was wondering if you would let me bench-press you if I asked."

"_That's_ what you were thinking about?" Santana said. She sounded like she didn't quite believe it, but she was smiling so it was okay.

Brittany nodded. "If I asked, would you let me?"

"Maybe," Santana drawled, causing Brittany to wiggle in excitement. "Not right now, though," she amended, and Brittany did the lower-lip tremble pout. "Stop that." She reached to tuck Brittany's lip back into place, fingers lightly pressing against Brittany's mouth.

Brittany kissed Santana's fingers and then lay back down, settling between Santana and the back of the couch. Since Brittany didn't think it was safe to announce "_Cuddle time_," because Santana was still kind of iffy about things, she just went for it, looping an arm around Santana's waist and nuzzling her neck. A small giggle shook Santana's body, causing Brittany's body to buzz pleasantly. "Does that tickle?"

"A little." Santana shook her head. "But mostly…it feels good. I like it."

This was encouraging. Brittany grinned. "I like it too. Want me to do it again?"

"Mm-hmm."

So Brittany complied, rubbing her nose and cheek against the smooth skin of Santana's neck. _Baby steps_, she thought to herself. The whole point was to allow Santana to be as comfortable as possible.

But then another thought crept into Brittany's head right afterwards, and it wasn't a very nice thought. What if this was all Santana would ever be comfortable with? Nothing wrong with cuddling — it was always nice and lots of fun — but Brittany really wanted to try being more than just friends who became friends because of the benefits. She knew Santana liked her too, but what kind of _like_ was it, for real? Maybe Santana was just being nice (as she usually was with Brittany) and humoring Brittany, knowing that Brittany had a big obvious crush on her and not wanting to hurt Brittany's feelings by saying she wasn't _that_ into that.

But Brittany knew it would ultimately hurt less if Santana were upfront and honest with her. Sure it would hurt if Santana really wasn't that into that, but it would be better than feeling like she was being 'played', as Tina put it, out of pity.

She didn't notice that she had stopped nuzzling and was just lying there, consumed in unhappy thoughts, until Santana wriggled a bit from under her. "Britt?" she asked, sounding concerned. "You okay?"

Brittany clenched her eyes shut and buried her head into Santana's shoulder. "Not really," tumbled out of her mouth before she could stop it.

Santana's body froze under her, and Brittany immediately wanted to take it back. "Why? What's wrong?" Santana asked, her voice becoming pitchy and worried. She grabbed Brittany's arms and squeezed them lightly.

"I just…please don't be mad at me," Brittany begged, realizing that she might have just talked herself into a hole.

"Why would I be mad at you?" Santana soothed, rubbing her hands down Brittany's shoulders and grasping her hands.

Brittany couldn't bring herself to look Santana in the face; maybe it would hurt them both less that way. "San…am I bothering you by being around too much?"

"What?" Santana almost yelled, sitting up so quickly that she almost knocked her head against Brittany's. Brittany was sure that her face looked as spooked as she felt, which was to say, a lot. "No, no, Britt, what makes you think you're bothering me?" Santana backtracks, softening her voice. "I really like having you around. Seriously, Britt, I really do. You're the only person I can be around without wanting to punch something sooner or later." Her hand moved to pat Brittany's cheek, which blushed pink at the contact. "You don't believe me?"

Brittany shook her head. "No, I do! We're friends," she said hurriedly, and then trailed off, "…friends that kind of make out and stuff."

"Britt—"

"I'm confused," Brittany confessed, drawing away and sitting up on her knees, careful not to sit on Santana's legs. "I mean we do stuff that's supposed to be for people who are more than just friends, right? Like, I get that people do that because of the benefits, but I, I'm not really sure if we're like that or if maybe I'm thinking something else is going on, because…"

"Britt, breathe. You're rambling," Santana interrupts, leaning up so that they were both sitting up, and rested a hand on her shoulder.

"I really like you, Santana," Brittany blurted. "Like, a lot."

Santana lowered her eyes. She chuckled, dryly. "I know that. I know you do."

Brittany nodded, not finished. "Yeah, that's what I thought. I thought you would know," she rambled, almost frantically. "But I don't want you to pretend to like me more than you really do, just because you don't wanna hurt my feelings. I don't wanna be the reason you're doing something you don't really feel. I —"

"Are you _serious_?" Santana's voice was sharp, sharper than it had ever been with Brittany. Damn it, she just knew that this line of thinking was going to mess _everything_ up. She flinched as Santana pushed herself completely upright. "Do you — do you think I'm _playing_ you, Brittany?"

"That's the way Tina would put it," Brittany mumbled, scrambling off the couch and back onto the floor. Her butt connected with the carpet a little too hard, and she winced.

"Britt, listen to me."

Brittany shook her head. "I didn't mean it like that way, honest. I know you don't want to hurt my feelings. You're not that kind of person to me. You've always been super sweet and wonderful, I just don't…"

"Brittany!" Santana leaped off the couch and knelt in front of Brittany, grabbing her face so that Brittany couldn't look away and pretend not to hear her. "Listen, just listen. I lo—love having you here with me. To this day, I still can't believe you found me again after all that time. So, believe me — _please_ — when I say that I don't pretend to want you around. I never have. _Swear_," Santana enunciates the last word, pressing their foreheads together.

Brittany sniffed, suddenly feeling tickling heat in her sinuses and behind her eyes. Now she was going to cry and it was going to be super embarrassing and awkward. "Then why can't I come in?"

Santana's mouth curled into a tiny frown. "What do you mean?"

"It's just…I can't come in," Brittany struggled to explain. "Like, I still don't know anything about you other than you used to live in New York and had a jerk for an ex-boyfriend, and that you hate pigeons and rainy days and love gin and gingersnaps, and that you're a lawyer working for important people, and that Sam's your friend, and that now you live in this house. And all of that is really cool and I'm so glad. But what about the other stuff? Like…I didn't even know your last name until I saw it on the junk mail envelopes on your kitchen counter. Maybe you forgot or something, maybe you were just waiting for me to ask, but I thought that was something you'd just tell me yourself. And I know I'm being stupid and silly but I think I told you everything I could about me because yeah, I like talking about myself because I think I'm awesome but also because I wanted to let _you_ in. But I thought that maybe I was making you uncomfortable or making you do stuff unwillingly, because I know you don't feel comfortable when I talk to you like this or get too close to you when we're outside with other people, and since I feel like I don't know anything about you…I thought I was doing something wrong. That's all."

She took a deep breath, and shut her eyes tightly to block the standing tears in her eyes. Too late; because one of them was already streaming down her left cheek. Brittany tried to turn her head away, in case Santana was mad at her for making Santana sound like a mean person, but Santana wouldn't let go of her face.

"Brittany," she said, her voice quieter than before, "why did you want to let me in?"

"Because I really like you," Brittany answered immediately, her face growing hotter and hotter under Santana's touch. "And I wanted to make sure it wasn't just a regular kind of like."

"A regular kind of like?"

"Yeah." Brittany swallowed. "I wanted to be absolutely sure it was a bigger kind of like. The kind that only gets bigger and bigger until it becomes…more than that." Now Santana was staring at her harder than ever, and she was feeling more and more embarrassed for talking so much like this.

Santana finally removed her hands and folded them in front of her, backing up a little. She looked down at the floor between them. "So…what kind of like is it?" she asked kindly, but in a measured tone that betrayed nothing to Brittany.

Brittany's face fell further. Santana was opening up a little bit and then was closing again. Like the swinging cat door she had for Lord Tubbington back at her parent's house in Ohio — and Brittany knew she couldn't get through a door like that, it was too small. "I guess…if it was just a regular kind of like, I wouldn't be crying right now," she muttered. She turned aside to wipe her face on her sleeve.

"Oh," Santana said, and her voice was smaller than Brittany had ever heard it. Not even when were in Vegas together. "Oh, Brittany."

"Sorry," Brittany sniffled.

"No." Santana said firmly, creeping closer and wrapping her arms tightly around Brittany — Brittany almost jumped at the unexpected contact. "Don't be sorry. I'm the one who's sorry."

"But I —"

"Yeah, there are many things that I do because I have to do them," Santana interrupted, her words beating softly against Brittany's ear, "but when I'm with you…I spend time with you because I want to. It's…it's the best part of my day whenever I get to see you. It might be…like you said, not just a regular kind of like, because nobody else gets me like that but you. And I suck so much for not making sure you knew that."

Brittany turned around in Santana's embrace to look at her. "You don't suck. And you're the best part of my day, too."

Santana sighed into Brittany's hair. "You were right before. About how maybe you needed to ask me before I would tell you. Because if you hadn't talked about it just now…Brittany, you have to know that I was just as unsure about…this, _us_, as you were." She pulled away slowly, and Brittany let her, so that she could have space to explain. "I told you I wanted to go slow because I thought…you know, if we went too fast you'd get tired of me sooner rather than later."

Brittany felt that familiar Santana-twinge in her chest, the one that always flared up whenever she was reminded about how lonely Santana must have been, all the time. She felt so selfish for thinking only about how it would hurt _her_ if Santana was just pretending, when Santana was likely just as worried about the same thing. This time, she was the one to lunge forward and pull Santana into her arms; she pressed her lips hard against Santana's cheekbone, and gasped a little when she realized it was wet and salty. How did she not notice that Santana had been crying?

"No," she swore, clutching Santana tightly to her and moving her lips across Santana's cheek, "I wouldn't get tired of you. Not in a million years."

Santana chuckled weakly, her hands wrapped in the fabric of Brittany's shirt. "You don't know that."

"I do," Brittany insisted; anything to make her heart stop hurting for Santana and her loneliness. She was practically crushing Santana's body into her own but she didn't care. "You know I rowed gondolas and fixed bikes and did all of that to follow my dreams, but I was never sure where my dreams would take me until I met you. And now," she swallowed, "now I'm sure. It's _you_, San. I won't get tired of you because you're where I've been headed all this time."

Both of them were surprised when Santana suddenly let out a sob. Santana's head ducked and she pressed her face into Brittany's shoulder, as the sobs kept coming and coming. Santana's door was being held open, somehow, and Brittany pressed fluttering kisses against Santana's hair and temple in hopes of keeping it that way a little longer.

* * *

Somehow they ended up lying on the living room carpet, Santana on top of Brittany, with her forehead fitting between Brittany's chin and collarbone. A pile of sodden, balled up napkins sat nearby. Brittany's eyes felt a little tingly from the moisture in them, but they probably didn't feel as tingly as Santana's, given that she'd actually cried harder than Brittany had.

Honestly, Brittany was awestruck at how much emotion, how much feeling Santana held inside of her small body. Of course Brittany had gotten glimpses of it over the past several months since Santana found her again, as well as a smidgen of it when they met and Santana let her into her bed, but it never failed to fascinate Brittany and probably never would. It was just so different from the way she treated Sam, who almost always just got called names; but maybe Sam had also gotten a glimpse of this side of Santana, so he still remained friends with her despite all of the abuse he got.

Brittany sighed, smiling lightly at how Santana's body rose and fell with the expansion and contraction of Brittany's chest. Santana was as still as a mouse, like she was asleep, but it didn't feel like she was asleep. Her pulse was still too quick for that.

"San?" Brittany finally broke their silence. Santana sniffed and used her elbows to prop herself up, removing the pressure on Brittany's rubs. "You okay?"

"Fine," Santana croaked, her voice still raw and wet. She sighed and leaned her forehead down, pressing lightly against Brittany's sternum, just above her breasts. Brittany shivered. "I don't usually do that," she explained sheepishly. "Crying like a little bitch."

"That's why it's so special. I hope you're not ashamed of it," Brittany replied, as Santana nuzzled her way back up to Brittany's neck. "Besides, I cried too."

"Not as much as me."

"Don't be silly. It doesn't mean you're weak, or that you're not tough. It means you feel things here," Brittany took Santana's hand and pressed it to her heart, "and that's what makes people, people. Quinn used to say people were different because our brains are bigger and more well-developed than other animals, but there are a lot of people who don't act like people because they don't feel anything. That's what _I_ think."

Santana murmured in agreement, and settled her body back on top of Brittany's, nestling closer. "We'll get up in a moment," she said. "The carpet's kind of hard, I imagine."

"The carpet's hard but you're soft, so I don't care," Brittany replied, hugging Santana to her and rocking slightly by rolling them from side to side. Santana let out a tired giggle. Suddenly, she lifted her head again, as if remembering something important.

"Britt?"

"Mm-hmm?"

"Can I — ask you something?"

Brittany nodded, and smiled encouragingly. "Yeah. What is it?"

Santana winced, as if what she was going to say was really embarrassing or really painful. "Does…did it bother you that…that we…that I don't, you know, let us go all the way, even though we already went there when we barely knew each other?"

Brittany squinted. "Huh? What do you mean?" Santana's face flushed that familiar dusky rose, and then it clicked in Brittany's head. "Oh, I get it, you're asking me if it bothered me that we haven't had sex since I came to LA?"

Santana groaned, hiding her face in Brittany's neck. Brittany giggled, her right hand coming up to stroke Santana's hair.

"Did it seem like it was bothering me? I'm sorry…it might've at the beginning, I'm not going to lie," she said honestly, running her fingers through the dark, beautiful strands of Santana's hair. "But I got over it."

"You sure?" Santana asked skeptically; apparently she doesn't believe that Brittany's really okay with it now.

Brittany's face softened. "You're not usually this shy when talking about sex, are you?"

Santana shrugged. "It wasn't such a big deal before," she muttered, and Brittany was pretty sure her heart skipped a beat in excitement.

"Well," Brittany said, wiggling around under Santana to get her attention. "I just figured out that it's not about sex so much as, you know, just being together with you. Sex is just one really awesome way to do it, but above all that, being close to you is the most important thing." She shrugged, biting her lip thoughtfully. "I mean, I really, really like you naked, but that's because I really, really like _you_."

Santana's face contorted, and then she burst into laughter. Brittany's eyebrows shot up — she wasn't expecting _that_ to happen — but she felt her face smirking at Santana's obvious amusement. "Did I say something wrong?"

"No. No, not at all." Santana took a deep breath. "How is it that you can make me cry and laugh within a five-minute time span? I mean, nobody's been able to do that. That should be impossible."

"Because you really, really like me too?" Brittany asked hopefully, pasting on her most starry-eyed, lip-trembling pout.

Santana chuckled, leaning down to peck Brittany's lips. "Yeah. And also because you are such a dork."

Brittany pushed herself up into a sitting position; Santana fell back and settled in Brittany's lap. "I know, you told me when we first met."

They kissed for a while longer, all soft and long kisses, and Brittany felt Santana's hands wandering over her stomach and lower back, and then hesitantly working their way under the shirt. Brittany didn't mind. That usually meant she could move her hands anywhere she wanted, too, as long as they kept their clothes on.

Santana moaned into Brittany's mouth when Brittany smoothed a hand over one of Santana's thighs, petting it with broad strokes. Brittany grinned and pulled Santana's face closer with her other hand, as Santana broke the kiss.

They hadn't gone much further then this ever since they found each other again in the bike shop, but Brittany didn't care because now she knew that things were different than they were before. Different in somehow knowing that Santana would be less likely to stop her, or move away, or close herself off.

"Britt," Santana murmured, pressing her face into Brittany's cheek and nuzzling. "What you said…about being together?"

"Yeah, San?"

Santana inhaled deeply, and sank further into Brittany when she breathed out, "I just want to be close to you, too."

Brittany kissed her forehead. "Don't be scared of wanting it," she replied softly. "I'm here."

They were quiet for a long time, and then Santana said, "Do you want to sleep?" It was an unspoken agreement that they would share the bed, although nothing had happened in it so far. Not that Brittany minded so much, having Santana in it had been more than enough. It _was_ about being close to her, after all — the sex could wait on that account.

"Uh-huh," Brittany nodded. Santana moved to stand up, but Brittany kept a firm grip on her. "No, not so fast, San. I wanna carry you."

"Britt!" Santana flailed and giggled as Brittany pulled them both to their feet and then swept Santana off hers.

"I like doing this," Brittany announced, as she made her way down the hall to the bedroom. She reconsidered for a moment. "But only if you like it, too."

Santana smirked at her as Brittany sat her down on the bed. "You_ are_ pretty hot when you show off."

"Does that mean you'll let me bench-press you?"

"You're not going to let that go, are you?" Santana chided, flipping the covers open and motioning for Brittany to join her. "Well, fine. If you really want to do it you're going to have to wait until I get my core strength up. It would be totally unattractive to be bench pressing a floppy body."

Brittany rolled her eyes. "You're not floppy," she insisted, as she crawled onto the bed and lay down next to Santana. "Seriously. Your build is super amazing awesome. I saw it at the gym today, you have nothing to hide."

Santana chuckled. "Thank you."

"I mean it, San," Brittany said, softer this time. She rolled over to face Santana and took her closest hand. "You're awesome, and you're beautiful." Santana's gaze flickered away from their joined hands, and she pressed her lips together in a shaking, yet tight line. "And you put up with me. So I'm really happy right now."

"Britt!" Santana burst out, her mouth finally curving into a wide smile although her eyes were wet again. "You can't just keep saying stuff like that…and, and making me cry, and then I know you're going to find some way to make me laugh five minutes from now, and…God!" She hid her face in the crook of her elbow, chuckling to herself even as Brittany reaches for her face and feels the tears moving again.

"I'm…uh, I'm sorry?" Brittany tried, and Santana laughed through her tears, and suddenly moved to roll on top of Brittany.

A little bit startled at the suddenness of her movement, Brittany's thigh accidentally jerked upwards and Santana ground down onto it, her body responding on instinct. Brittany's hands found their way to Santana's hips, her thumbs rubbing purposefully against the protruding bones of her pelvis. "San," she moaned into Santana's hair, as one of Santana's hands moved to grasp her breast.

"I've — I've never felt this way before," Santana breathed, and crushed their mouths together, grabbing Brittany's face and deepening the kiss.

* * *

Santana stayed on top of her for hours, not moving even when Brittany struggled to remove her shirt because Santana was sitting on her chest, or even when sweat and arousal caused their bodies to stick together, like band-aid adhesive; stubborn and a little painful when Santana tried to peel herself off of Brittany. Brittany's feet were hopelessly tangled in her pajama pants, with Santana's own draped over her shins. By the time Santana settled back down, Brittany lay panting on her back where she'd been for the last couple hours, one arm spread out and the other looping its way around Santana's waist.

"Was — was it okay?" Santana asked, placing her palm against Brittany's still-rattling heart. "I know you said we didn't have to…"

"Just because we didn't have to doesn't mean I didn't want it," Brittany mumbled, still a little dazed. "You're _so_ good. So good. Maybe even better than last time. Like, I can't feel my legs right now."

Santana snorted and grinned. "I think I just realized that you're kind of crazy," she murmured. "You say I put up with you, but in all honesty I think you're the one putting up with me. Sam would say the same. So would everyone else."

"San…" Brittany said quietly, "Sam and 'everyone else' don't feel the way I feel about you."

"Stop," Santana mumbled, placing her hand on Brittany's mouth. "You keep talking, I'm going to cry again because you, like, have a way with words or something. I think I have cried enough for one night, don't you think?"

Brittany chuckled and let Santana shift around so that they could cuddle more efficiently. "Okay. We sleep now."

They hadn't slept naked in the same bed since Vegas, but Brittany still woke up very early in the morning because she had to pee and, regardless of nudity, Santana still had the tendency to be sleeping half on top of Brittany and elbowing her in soft places. Brittany woke her just enough to squirm out from under Santana, finds her shirt and pulls it on, while Santana grumbles something incoherent behind her.

"I have to pee, San, I'll be right back."

When Brittany returned, Santana had rolled herself up in the sheets like a burrito, so there was hardly any sheet for Brittany to get under. "San!" she scolded softly, "I'm back now."

Santana whined as Brittany unrolls her from the sheets. "S'cold," she mumbled. "You left and the bed got cold."

Brittany rolled her eyes. "Don't be silly, it's Los Angeles, how cold can it actually get here? Besides, I'm only wearing my T-shirt and, like, no pants."

That last bit got Santana's attention somehow, and her eyes blinked open, watching as Brittany finished unrolling Santana and got back under the covers. "Come here, I'll make sure you're all warm and toasty again," Brittany coaxed, pulling Santana backwards into her arms.

Santana let Brittany nestle closer and put her warm hands over Santana's cooler ones. "Wow San, you really weren't lying when you said you were cold."

"Told you," Santana grumped, turning her head slightly so that Brittany could press her nose into the soft skin at the hinge of her jaw.

They lay there in the quiet for a while, and Brittany felt Santana dropping off — that is, until Santana apparently remembered something. "Britt, do you have any plans for tomorr — I mean today?"

Brittany shrugged. "Laundry, I guess. And clean the kitchen. My roommates never have time to clean, and I guess I have the most free time out of all of us, so."

"How _are_ your roommates, anyway?"

"Wish I knew, but I don't. One of their friends moved close by to a bigger apartment a couple weeks ago so they've been going over there a lot."

Santana frowned. "Do they…ever talk to you?"

Brittany shrugs. "Sometimes, when I turn in my rent check. But I haven't seen or talked to them recently, not since last week. It's midterms time for them right now. But I'm used to it."

"You've been living with them for months now," Santana said, like she disapproved of the way they treated her, even though they didn't treat her _badly_. Not at all. If not for them, she wouldn't have found a living situation so quickly.

"I know," Brittany said. "But there are so many kinds of people in the world, and the roommates just happen to be the workaholic type who only want to be friends with other workaholics. It's okay." Santana nodded, but didn't stop looking unhappy, though. "It's really sweet of you to wonder if I'm comfortable in my own place," Brittany teases. "Now go back to sleep, if you want to. I don't feel like talking about them so early in the morning."

Santana nodded, biting her lip and turning back to settle into the mattress.

* * *

They slept in until ten, and Santana woke Brittany up with the promise of Lucky Charms. But Brittany really did have to do laundry, so she got ready to leave Santana's sooner rather than later.

Santana followed her outside to where Brittany had parked her motorcycle. "Be safe," Santana said, because for some reason she wasn't very convinced of the safety of motorcycles, despite Brittany being pretty much an expert at them. Brittany kissed her and said, "Of course. I'll text you when I get back home," as she pulled on her helmet.

Brittany didn't get to see Santana again until the next week, while she was at work in the bike shop. When Santana walked in, wearing her work clothes, which made her look like she just stepped off the set of some TV show about lawyers, some of Brittany's co-workers whistled. She glared at them stonily as Brittany hurried over.

"Ignore them. San? What's up?"

"Let's go outside," she said, and Brittany quickly checked her hands to make sure they were clean (they were), before following her out to the front of the shop, out into the Los Angeles sun. Once they were outside, Santana snorted. "How do you work with those assholes?"

Brittany shrugged. "I told them that I was bilingual and that my girlfriend was a lawyer. When I said _lawyer_ they shut up real quick. They still used to look at my boobs and stuff, but then I told them how much I bench-pressed at Sam's gym, and then they stopped doing that. They're pretty easy to scare, actually. So I don't worry about them."

Santana almost smiled, looking a bit bashful at Brittany calling her her girlfriend. "They don't know that _I'm_ the lawyer?"

"No, I think they think you're just Sam's friend. I mean, if they even remember you at all."

Santana chuckled, a bit darkly. "Well, we'll have to fix that soon. Anyway, I had a idea this morning and…and I didn't think I should wait to tell you."

Brittany nodded and waited.

"I woke up this morning, and I was thinking about you and your crappy roommates," Santana said.

Brittany grinned shyly, but shook her head. "San, they're not crappy. Besides, not everyone can be awesome all the time. I mean, you should know—"

"Shush, I'm not done. Anyway, Sam came over to get his Xbox and we talked a little bit, and…being the nosy-ass bastard he is, he asked me why you hadn't moved in yet."

Brittany's eyebrows shot up. "He did?"

"Yeah." Santana rolled her eyes and folded her arms. "I don't usually like it when other people tell me what I should be doing."

"San, it's okay." Brittany took Santana by the elbows and drew her close. "You had no idea I was here for, like months or something. And then there were, you know, things we had to figure out."

Santana sighed. "It's not like I haven't been thinking about asking you, since I found out you were here," she admitted, her fingers resting on Brittany's shoulders. "But you're right. We had to kind of figure things out, first."

"Are they…figured out enough, do you think?" Brittany asked. She was smiling; happy to hear that Santana had actually thought about asking Brittany to live with her, even back then. But it probably had been too soon, back then.

"Britt, I still have a lot of baggage that I left New York to get away from, and I have a shitty way of dealing with things sometimes," Santana said, but just as Brittany opened her mouth to protest, she continued, "and I know you're the kind of person who'll look past all that. You make me feel," she paused, obviously trying to find the right words, "you make me feel like I'm — everything. Like I'm the whole world, you know?" When Brittany remained silent, waiting for her to continue, she finished, "Do you understand what I'm trying to say here?"

Brittany nodded. "I know." She cocked her head to the side. "I might not understand, but I'll always know. Okay?"

"Okay," Santana replied slowly.

"So we're kind of figured out."

"Y-yeah. I think — no, I'm pretty sure we are. We are."

Brittany grinned. "Awesome. And if there's still some more figuring out to do, we'll do it, won't we?"

"We will," Santana agreed. "So…back to my first point, I had an idea this morning and after Sam stuck his nose into my business where it didn't belong, I was wondering," she said, "if you think that you would want to move in with me now."

Brittany's jaw dropped. "Well, uh, yeah, of course."

Santana's hands squeezed Brittany's shoulders. "I just…Sam thinks I wasn't going to do it. Ask you, I mean. He thought I was still letting…you know, stuff get between us." When Brittany frowned, she quickly continued, "But I swear, we _will_ talk about that. I'm not letting Sam be right about having that between us."

"Okay," Brittany said. "Since you swore you would, I believe you."

Santana nodded, looking relieved and grateful. "So what do you say?" Her hands slipped from Brittany's shoulders and she stepped back to hold one of them out, as if waiting for a handshake.

Brittany smiled and took her hand firmly, shaking it once and then pulling Santana into a quick kiss and longer hug. "San, I'd be honored to warm your bed up every night so that you don't have to roll up like a little burro in your blankets," she deadpanned. Santana slapped her shoulder, but Brittany just squeezed her tighter and lifted her off her high heels. "My little San-popsicle," she crooned.

"Britt!" Santana exclaimed, wiggling in Brittany's arms. But she was smiling widely, her eyes and nose crinkling in the familiar happy way.

"I have to give my roommates at least a month's notice," Brittany remembered, gently putting Santana down. "They'll probably not be around today, they've got classes or something — I could still email them, they'd probably prefer that. I can start moving stuff in as soon as this weekend, they probably won't care as long as I let them know and pay the rent until then." She paused. "Wait a minute, how much rent would you charge?"

Santana rolled her eyes. "I own my house, so you would at least have to pitch in on bills and stuff. No more free water and garbage," she teased, tapping Brittany's nose.

"But I'd totally help on the mortgage and stuff if you wanted," Brittany offered. The bike shop did pay her well, considering its rich and sometimes famous clientele. People like Sam.

"One thing at a time, Britt. We'll sit down and talk about it tonight," Santana promised.

"I'll take you to dinner," Brittany offered slyly, her hands moving to grasp Santana's, holding their hands between them. "It's a date, okay?"

"Okay," Santana agreed, her face growing bashful under Brittany's sly yet warm gaze. Brittany smiled and released one of Santana's hands to touch her cheek.

"You're kind of…_it_ for me, you know?" Brittany said softly. Quinn or Tina might say she was being too hasty in saying that to Santana, when there was still so much Santana had yet to reveal about herself, but after looking at everything Brittany went through and where she was now, and being sure of how Santana would always try her hardest to do right by Brittany — they didn't _really_ know anything, did they?

Santana swallowed, and she nodded, her smile growing again. "I will. And I — I think I'd do anything for you, if I could. If you just…ask. I'll try."

Brittany kissed Santana's forehead, and then her lips.

"All my roads lead to you. Just remember that."


End file.
